His Friendly Neighbour
by alyssialui
Summary: Arabella Figg has been assigned to watch over Harry Potter in Little Whinging.
1. Chapter 1

_A/N: This is a little 5-shot about Arabella Figg and her relationship-ish to Harry Potter. In this first chapter, we see her and her husband enjoying breakfast. Mr Figg is not mentioned in the series, so it is possible Harry never seen the man or had any real interaction with him, or he has died. For my story, he's alive and his name is David. RxR. FxF. _I do not own Harry Potter.__

_Submission for:_

_**Character of the Week Drabble Competition: **Week 8 - Arabella Figg_

_****Greek Mythology Mega Prompt Challenge: ****Circe – Wrte about a Squib_

_Prompt: One drabble must involve your given character in a romantic relationship_

* * *

Arabella bustled around the kitchen getting breakfast ready. She had been up for an hour now. The cats had been fed and now she looked about feeding herself and her husband. The eggs were sizzling on the frying pan and the bread was in the toaster turning a golden brown. It was Sunday which meant that her and David could spend the day together. He was always so busy in the week that they both enjoyed the day to relax and just enjoy each other's company .

She heard the sound of his footsteps on the stairs and she smiled. She would never get tired of little things like that: his footsteps, the way he always chose to wear a pressed white shirt on Sundays and how he would sneak up behind her in the kitchen, even after they've been married for 30 years.

"Good morning, my dear," he said as he came up and kissed her cheek. She could smell his rustic cologne in his neck, another thing she loved about him.

She smiled and asked, "Good morning, dear. Could you pour the orange juice, please?"

"Not a problem," he replied as he walked over to the fridge.

The eggs were finished now. Arabella plated them and turned, ready to put the toast on the plate, only to find that David had already done that. He smiled at her as he poured a glass for her and himself.

"You're always so quick. Sometimes I think you have more magic than me," she joked. She had told him all about herself and her world when she got married, so this was no news to him. It actually attracted him to her even more which she was very grateful for. In the wizarding world, she would have been shunned but here she had a husband who saw her for who she truly was.

"You know I always find you magical," he grinned as he took a seat.

The sound of a lawnmower filled their ears. "Who could be mowing this early in the morning?" David asked as he looked out the large window of their kitchen.

Outside was a small boy, probably no more than 7, pushing a red, rusty old lawnmower twice his size. His usually messy hair was plastered to his head from sweat and his shirt soaked as he tried to push the heavy machine across the front yard.

"It's horrible how those Dursleys treat the boy. That pudgy one never lifts a finger," David commented.

"It is a shame, David, but Dumbledore told us not to interfere," Arabella warned. She had always wanted to go over there and give the Dursleys a piece of her mind about the boy's mistreatment but Dumbledore had given orders to watch him and nothing else.

"So we should sit idly by as he nearly loses a toe or a finger in that thing?" David asked incredulously. They had had this conversation many times before. David knew the answer but he always hoped it would be different.

"We can't interfere," Arabella repeated as she took a sip of her orange juice.

David grumbled as he took a bite of his egg. "Well, invite the boy over today. Give him at least some reprieve from those horrible people, if only for a few hours."

Arabella gave him a small smile across the table, "That's what I always do"


	2. Chapter 2

_A/N: Can I tell how much I keep thinking 'Your friendly neighbourhood Spiderman' in my head when I read that title (which was totally unintentional). Anyways, on with the story: __Arabella compares herself with young Harry Potter. RxR. FxF._

_Prompt: One drabble must involve your given character in a platonic/familial relationship_

* * *

Arabella would often watch the young Potter from her living room window, hiding in the shadows or behind the curtain so he would never notice. He was very thin and always had dark circles under his eyes. She would ask him about his home life, but he was very quiet, not offering much information and quickly changing the topic to something else. How she wished she could take him in her arms away from those Dursleys and show him all the wonders of the world he never knew.

She found it a bit ironic compared to her own life. He was a wizard being raised by muggles, while she was a squib who was raised by wizards. She knew magic all her life but was unable to partake, while he didn't know anything about it but one day would be expected to embrace it completely.

It was hard when she and her family found she was a squib. Her older and younger brothers had exhibited magical ability when they were both 5. Andrew had accidentally lit Mum's curtains on fire, while Adrian had levitated a cake Mum had put on the top of the highest shelf.

Arabella did none of that. Arabella did not show any signs. And once she passed the age of 8, they had given up all hope. She was a squib, a social pariah in the wizarding world. Her mother was disappointed and her father grew a little distant with her.

She remembered all the times she would cry over her inability. Why was she different? What was wrong with her?

But one night, her Mum came into her room as she was crying softly. With a comforting hand on her back, her Mum told her that she was special, she was rare. Although she was not magical, there was a different kind of magic inside of her. She had the magic of compassion and care, always looking out for others and doing things even those would magic never found it in their hearts to do. Arabella was strong and she could defend herself as well as any other magic user.

Though Arabella found a hard time believing it then, her mother's words comforted her and they followed her throughout her life. While her brothers went to Hogwarts, Arabella stayed home with her parents and embraced the muggle world. At the muggle schools she attended and working in the muggle, Arabella stood up for herself and those around her. Arabella used the magic in her own heart to care for others and help them in times of need. You didn't magic powers to be magical.

She saw that same magic in the quiet young boy living with the Dursleys. She saw how polite and caring he was to her and others despite the abuse shown by his relatives for his kind. He would be even stronger than she was, and other wizards of his time, for he was very magical - he had magical powers and he had the magic of heart.


	3. Chapter 3

_A/N: Arabella visits Diagon Alley with her family as they get her older brother's wand and other school supplies. RxR. FxF._

_Prompt: One drabble must involve Hogwarts, Hogsmeade or Diagon Alley in some way_

* * *

Ten-year-old Arabella ran behind her older brother, Andrew, as they searched the Alley for the wand shop. Their mother giggled, as she and their father held the hands of their eight-year-old brother, Adrian, between them. Andrew wanted badly to run after his older siblings but knew better to stay with his parents.

They burst through the door of the musty shop with wide smiles on their faces, but being careful not to knock over any of the precariously stacked wands around them.

A warm voice called near the end of the small aisle, "Welcome, welcome."

The family walked up until they stood before a small counter. Behind it was an old, wise-looking man. His hair was thinning and slightly grey but his eyes were still full of life. He smiled at them and said, "What can I do for you today?"

Arabella spoke up, "My brother's here for his wand."

The old man's eyes lit up, "Really? Well, let's see if I can help with that."

The man disappeared among another set of dusty aisles before returning with two wand boxes. He pulled out one and handed it to Andrew. "Cherry, dragon heartstring, 8 inches," he said as Andrew took siblings crowded around him as he waved but nothing happened.

The children all looked back at the old man with curious eyes but he just shook his head and took the wand back, "Not the right one." He unpacked the second, "Try this one."

Andrew took it and Arabella could see the surprise on his face as he gripped it. He looked into each of his sibling's faces with wonder, his mouth falling open.

"What's it like?" Arabella asked.

"It's all tingly and warm and it just feels right," Andrew said dreamily.

The old man nodded, "Yes, that's the one."

Arabella turned to the man and bit her lip. The man asked, "What's wrong, my dear?"

"Do you think there's a wand back there for me?" Arabella asked softly.

If she had been looking at her parents and not the kind old man, she would have seen their eyes bug out. Her mother placed a small hand on the girl's shoulder. "Arabella, you're not 11 yet, so you wouldn't be getting a wand yet," she said, trying to diffuse the situation and get out of the shop as quickly as possible.

Arabella turned to her mother with sad eyes before looking back at the old man. "Is there a wand waiting for me back there?" she asked him again.

Before her mother could say anything else, the old man tapped a hand on his chin and then said softly to the small girl, "I'm sorry, my dear. I don't think there's a wand for you here."

Tears sprung to her eyes at the man's words. If there was truly no wand for her, from the great wandmaker, then she was truly normal and unmagical. Arabella's mother pulled the girl to her body, brushing a comforting hand against her hair as she cried.

The old man spoke up once more, "But there are other kinds of magic, my dear, kinds you don't need a wand to do. I have faith that you'll find your own kind of magic."

Arabella sniffled and said, "That's what my Mum says."

The old man smiled, "Your Mum is very smart. And if she has, then she's already seen it. So don't cry, my dear."

Arabella sniffled and nodded her head. If this kind old man agreed with her mum, then they both couldn't be wrong, right?


	4. Chapter 4

_A/N: Arabella takes care of Harry for the day while the Dursleys are out._

_Prompts: __One drabble must use the given prompt for the week in some way - Sweden_

* * *

The Dursleys had dropped the young boy off so they could take the round, pudgy one to the circus. When Arabella inquired why the two boys couldn't go, Harry possibly wanting to see the different animals and tricks as well, Petunia's eyes narrowed at her before she walked back to the family car and they drove off.

No matter really. Arabella enjoyed having the boy over. Unfortunately she couldn't do all the fun things she wanted to with him. She couldn't tell him about magic. She couldn't show him pictures of her past. They couldn't play games or tell stories.

Instead they did chores around the house like feeding the cats and cooking dinner. She could tell little Harry hated coming over to her house and though she knew she could have made the visits more enjoyable, she didn't. Knowing those Dursleys, any fun they thought he may be having here would be put to an end immediately if they found out.

But there were times like today when they could let their hair down and just enjoy the day. Arabella was knitting today in the living room as harry separated her yarn. His two hands were wrapped in bright orange strands as he watched her needles move. The large living room window was open, allowing the cool October breeze to blow in. The radio was on and she could tell just the lovely music playing had put him in a good mood. She doubted he could listen to the radio over at the Dursleys.

"Mrs. Figg?" the little boy asked so softly, Arabella wasn't even sure he had spoken.

Trying to hide her surprise and eagerness that he had chosen to say something, Arabella said, "Yes, dear?"

"What's that?" he asked, though looking a bit looked up from her knitting towards him. His finger was pointing at a small globe on her tall shelf. She looked back at him, noticing the hesitation in his question and the slight way his shoulders tensed and rose around him for protection. Oh bless his soul and damn those Dursleys.

"It's a snowglobe, dear," she said as she gestured for him to set up some red yarn for her.

She and David had decided to use some of their savings on a trip to somewhere they had never been before. Jokingly, she had suggested Sweden as they threw out destinations, but then it stuck with the two of them. They spent two weeks in a small village, going on tours and climbing up mountains she never thought she would do at her age. At the end of the trip, she was sad to leave and had to get something to remember her time there.

They fell into silence again and Arabella didn't want him to retreat into his shell again, so she continued, "Mr Figg and I went to a nice little village in Sweden a few years ago and bought that in one of the gift shops." The snowglobe was a miniature figurine of the mountain the village sat on, the glittering 'snow' falling on the caps when shaken.

Harry began to separate the red yarn as he asked, "What's Sweden like?"

Arabella smiled, her needles stopping, and said, "It was like stepping into a fairytale: the light snow, the happy people, lots of different kinds of foods. Truly magical."

"I wish I could see something magical," the boy said with a pout.

Arabella reached over and placed a soft hand on his small arm, "Don't worry about that, dear. I'm sure you'll get to one day."

She knew her message was cryptic, she knew he probably didn't understand it now, but Arabella wanted the boy to understand that there was much more in store for him than a boring life in Little Whinging with the Dursleys.


	5. Chapter 5

_A/N: This is the last chapter of our little story of Harry's friendly neighbour, Mrs Arabella Figg. To tie it all up, we'll jump a bit into the future and land in 1995, the night the Dementors attack Little Whinging. It's Mrs Figg to the rescue. RxR. FxF._

_Prompt: One drabble must be written in first person_

* * *

Over the years, I watched Harry Potter grow into a fine, young man. His heart was just as big as I thought it was, and his magical ability was extraordinary. But I also saw how the Wizarding World treated him.

During the Triwizard Tournament last year, his name was all over the Daily Prophet being slandered by that horrible Skeeter. I had always tried to stay clear of anything written by her and with good reason. Now, she had blasphemed the poor boy's name at a time when he needed the most support.

Then that Fudge was ignoring the poor boy's word about You-Know-Who. Though I wish it were different, I know the boy would never lie about something this big. He, of all people, would hate if the person who murdered his parents were back to terrorize innocent people. There are those of us who believe him, Dumbledore having the most faith in the boy, but the rest of the world would rather live blissfully ignorant until death knocks at their front door.

I'm still stationed near to the young boy though, watching over him in case anything should go wrong. I've been inviting him over for tea but he doesn't seem to want to spend an evening with an old lady like. I don't blame him really. He had a lot on his plate.

Tonight is supposed to be Mundungus' turn on duty, but he's always been a bit flighty. He always tries to find any opportunity to shirk his responsibilities. Good thing I've got Mr Tibbles as backup, much more trustworthy than that little toad.

The kettle whistles and I run to the kitchen to pour myself a cup for tea. David is coming in a bit late tonight so it'll just be me and the kitties for awhile, but I don't mind really.

There is a loud crack and the cat flap opens. Hurried feet meet my ears before Mr Tibbles jumps onto the table and cries something terrible. I scowl and sip my tea. Mundungus.

I move towards the window and peak outside. The Dursleys are shouting at the Potter boy again and from the looks of it, the young man is on his last straw. Suddenly, he turns and stomps moodily in the direction of the local park. I place my teacup on the kitchen table. Time to do a bit of tailing myself.

* * *

I sit at a park bench a few ways from the sulking Potter boy on the swings. He seems lost in the thought but for the most part, completely safe. I check my watch, noticing how late it's getting and wondering if Mundungus will ever get back. It's not very safe for an old woman like me to be sitting out here alone.

Suddenly, all the street lights go out and the moon disappears completely. There is an odd chill in the air. It seeps into my very bones and reminds me of the times I would cry myself to sleep at night. Dementors.

I look towards where Potter was sitting and see that the swings are now empty, the sound of voices getting further and further away. I must do something. I must get him back home before it's too late.

My bones are too weak to walk quickly, and the cold feeling is getting stronger so I know they must be close. I cannot see them, never have been, but I know they're here. Every horrible thought and memory is passing through my mind and it's getting harder and harder to shake them: finding out I was a Squib, standing in the hospital when Adrian died at 18 due to pneumonia, Mum's death. I shook my head. I had a mission I had to-

"EXPECTO PATRONUM!" A voice shouts up ahead and I see a bright stag gallop forward as the cold feeling departs. The Potter boy!

I get up close and notice the fat round boy on the floor moaning and the Potter boy breathing heavily as he stood above him. His hand moves surreptitiously to his back pocket.

"Don't put it away, idiot boy! What if there are more of them around? Oh, I'm going to kill Mundungus Fletcher!"


End file.
